. . . in this stunning programme of 23 Russian miniatures his vocal elasticity and intensity work wonders . . . so masterfully played, so spontaneously felt are the results that listened to as one might a live event . . . it is easy to be swept away. I doubt . . . whether there is another cellist around who can so convincingly move from full-threated intensitiy to a half-whisper in an instant . . . Beguiling, too, is Maisky's always 'singing' tone at all dynamic levels . . . This is the very opposite of a relaxing, 'late-evening' experience, so overwhelming are Maisky's emotion responses . . . Pavel Gililov miraculously anticipates and responds to Maisky's every nuance with complete assurance.

Record Review /
Julian Haylock,
International Record Review (London) / 01. February 2006

. . . this is fabulous playing; beautiful, rich and deeply heartfelt.

Record Review /
Tim Homfray,
The Strad (Harrow, UK) / 01. March 2006

Maisky plays them all with his heart in the right place, which for these purposes is on his sleeve. As string-players sometimes say, he gives the music plenty of rosin.

"I Have Always Tried to Learn from Singers"Mischa Maisky and Russian Romances

Songs without singing might appear at first sight to be deficient or even impossible, rather like trying to swim without water, but on closer inspection they turn out to represent a fascinating kind of music making. A whole genre plays with the idea of textless singing, namely, the "songs without words" for piano, works which, for all their reference to song, do not in fact include a vocal line. It is no accident that this genre flourished in the 19th century, an age that E.T.A. Hoffmann summed up with the words: "Where language ceases, music begins."

Another type of "song without words" is represented by those arrangements that transcribe the vocal line for a musical instrument. Many songs can be performed on instruments without the need for far-reaching changes to their musical texture: "One of my revered teachers, Gregor Piatigorsky, also played songs on the cello," recalls Mischa Maisky. "Songs by Tchaikovsky, for example. There are even recordings of them. And not only Piatigorsky: Casals, too, made arrangements of this kind. But, unlike them, I take this idea much further by combining these songs together to form entire programmes and organizing veritable song recitals - I may add that these recitals are among my favourite type of concert."

In Mischa Maisky's view, not all songs are suited to this kind of treatment and cannot simply have their words removed: "Many songs cannot manage without their words, but others can." And even in the case of those songs that Maisky chooses for his recital programmes, the relationship between words and music is not unimportant. "Quite the opposite: it is very important. But with many songs one can also transcribe the vocal line for an instrument - the words may not be sung, but you naturally have the text at the back of your mind."

What is it that is so fascinating about songs without singing that Mischa Maisky has chosen this as the theme of his fifth CD of this kind? "The human voice is the most perfect of all instruments," enthuses the cellist. As a child he attended countless song recitals by famous singers, and their singing provided him with musical and interpretative inspiration. "I have always tried to learn from singers," he admits. The decision to set the existing cello repertory to one side and to turn instead to songs was an entirely natural one for Maisky. After all, "the cello is the instrument that comes closest to the human voice".

After exploring the traditions of the French mélodie and the German lied, Maisky is now returning to his roots with these "Russian Romances": "I grew up in Russia, in the former Soviet Union, and so I have very close links with Russian music - that goes without saying. And I love Russian music." The range of music that Maisky explores in this selection of songs extends from Glinka to Glazunov and is also a homage to the great 19th-century tradition of the Russian romance.

Questioned about his choice of songs, Maisky goes into narrative mode: "Among the composers I've chosen are some of the leading Russian musicians: Tchaikovsky and Glinka, for example. But there are also some who, although very important in terms of the development of Russian songs and romances, are not so well known in Western Europe: Modest Mussorgsky, Anton Rubinstein, Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov and Glazunov, for example. And then there's a name that probably no one has heard: Alexander Gurilyov - a very exciting composer." Gurilyov was born in Moscow in 1803, and although his songs have been forgotten in Western Europe, they are not only highly regarded by Maisky himself but are still immensely popular in Russia today. They are straightforwardly lyrical in tone and inspired by municipal forms of music making, including waltzes and other dance forms, while sentimental themes and an unerring instinct for drama are the hallmarks of Gurilyov's romances. "And finally," says Maisky, "I have chosen a song by an unidentified composer. This song was handed down from generation to generation by the great Russian tenors. It was extremely popular in Russia, and I too have known it since childhood. But the fact that its composer is unknown does not make the song any less beautiful. In short: the composer's name was not really decisive when it came to choosing these songs. Instead, I wanted to show the vast range of Russian songs."

The care that Mischa Maisky has lavished on this selection of "Russian Romances" is clear at every juncture, as is the fact that this album is a very personal homage to the revered Russian song tradition: "I have chosen music that I love, music that I enjoy and to which I feel a close bond." Maisky is speaking here as both man and artist. In selecting the material for this recital, he has preferred emotional depth to stylistic variety: "All these songs are in some way Romantic and melancholic. I know that some listeners will say that this choice is neither representative nor varied. That's true. But neither as man nor artist do I need variety when I like something. I'm happy to keep eating at the same restaurant if I like it there, and I have been playing the same cello for thirty-two years - I have a profound faith in the constancy of relationships. If I love a piece of music, I can keep on playing it without getting bored. And this atmosphere, this mood also influenced my choice of these 'Russian Romances'."